


The real thing

by clottedcreamfudge



Series: Tooth-rotting Malec nonsense [9]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blankets, Boyfriends, Established Relationship, Fluff, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Alec Lightwood, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Protective Magnus Bane, Sick Alec Lightwood, Sickfic, Soul Bond, Touch-Starved, sex references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:16:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29683155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clottedcreamfudge/pseuds/clottedcreamfudge
Summary: “Okay, I looked it up on something called WebMD and you either have the ‘flu, pneumonia, or lung cancer.” Jace is frowning at his phone, which is probably why he doesn’t sense Clary’s elbow coming for his ribs in time to stop the blow from connecting. “Ow, fuck, what?”“He doesn’t have lung cancer,” Clary hisses, then turns to where Alec is shivering under several blankets and glaring half-heartedly at the people who have invaded his room. “It’s probably the ‘flu. I had it when I was a kid and it sucks, but you’ll be fine in a few days.” She probably thinks that’s comforting, but it isn’t.“Shadowhunters don’t get the ‘flu,” he says stubbornly, voice hoarse from coughing already. “We don’t get sick at all. Period.” Clary raises her eyebrows, quite clearly signalling her disagreement with that statement.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: Tooth-rotting Malec nonsense [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170269
Comments: 50
Kudos: 316





	The real thing

There are lots of great things about being a Shadowhunter - at least to Alec’s mind. He likes training his body to fight, likes the way he feels after a long day of pushing his limits; craves the ache of his muscles after running too long on a speed rune, the slight burn under his skin when a stamina rune just won’t cut it anymore. He probably _shouldn’t_ like that, but it settles something in him, quiets the over-loud parts of his brain that sound a lot like his mom’s bitter disappointment on bad days.

He likes living at the Institute too. He doesn’t really want people touching him roughly 99.9% of the time, but he likes knowing that the people he loves are nearby anyway (and sometimes a hug from Izzy is kind of nice, even if he likes to pretend it’s not).

However, it turns out that some of the things he _thought_ he loved about being a Shadowhunter - such as not getting sick - were in fact a complete lie.

“Okay, I looked it up on something called _WebMD_ and you either have the ‘flu, pneumonia, or lung cancer.” Jace is frowning at his phone, which is probably why he doesn’t sense Clary’s elbow coming for his ribs in time to stop the blow from connecting. “Ow, _fuck_ , what?”

“He doesn’t have _lung cancer_ ,” Clary hisses, then turns to where Alec is shivering under several blankets and glaring half-heartedly at the people who have invaded his room. “It’s probably the ‘flu. I had it when I was a kid and it sucks, but you’ll be fine in a few days.” She probably thinks that’s comforting, but it isn’t.

“Shadowhunters don’t get the ‘flu,” he says stubbornly, voice hoarse from coughing already. “We don’t get sick at all. Period.” Clary raises her eyebrows, quite clearly signalling her disagreement with that statement.

“You look pretty sick to me,” Izzy says as she comes back into the room, holding a mug that Alec seriously hopes contains _nothing_ that she made herself. If she had any hand in creating it, there's a very real possibility that it’s going to make him feel worse.

“How could you even hear him from out there?” Clary asks, looking bewildered. Izzy thrusts the mug at Alec, who takes it with some reluctance; it’s a very pale yellow, and the mug is hot in his hands. He’s immediately suspicious when he doesn’t see a tea bag.

“My brother pretending he’s fine?” she says with an eyebrow raise of her own. “It’s not rocket science.”

“Also, she used a hearing rune,” Jace says helpfully, grinning unrepentantly when Izzy glares at him. “C’mon, it’s still _glowing_ , Izzy.”

“You’re all being really loud,” Alec croaks, sinking a little further into his blanket prison. “Please leave. I’m okay, I just need to sleep or whatever.”

“What you _need_ is-”

“Izzy,” Alec says sharply, and she has the courtesy to stop mid-sentence while he has a very minor coughing fit. Eventually, eyes watering, he seems to get enough air back into his lungs to continue. “Seriously, I’ll be fine. Please.” The begging note in his voice seems to do the trick, because she, Jace, and Clary leave him to his misery a few moments later. The second they close the door behind them, Alec shoves his mug onto the side table, grimacing; if he _does_ have the ‘flu, he shouldn’t even be able to smell anything, but somehow whatever Izzy brought him had still managed to smell truly disgusting. From beneath the mass of blankets, he pulls out his phone and stares at it.

He doesn’t have to text Magnus. He doesn’t _need_ to text Magnus. He’s probably busy anyway, and wouldn’t appreciate Alec interrupting his afternoon to ask for-

To ask for _what?_ A fucking hug? They haven’t seen each other in about a week and Alec might be a _little_ touch-starved. He groans and slides a little deeper under the blankets, turning slightly so he’s lying on his side, phone still clutched in his hand. Alec looks and feels completely disgusting right now, so it’s probably best if Magnus doesn’t see him anyway. Even though Magnus is his _boyfriend_ or something now, probably… And yeah, he’s still not even really sure what that means. He squeezes his phone a little harder and sighs. Why is this so fucking _difficult?_

He must drift off eventually, because he’s dragged from something a little groggier and more fitful than sleep by his phone buzzing. His eyes feel like someone’s been diligently rubbing sand into them for several hours, and his throat is so dry he’s not sure he’s even really breathing properly. He grasps for the water bottle on his bedside table and takes several long swallows, each one feeling like fire on its way down. He’s pretty sure even being _poisoned_ wasn’t this bad.

What woke him up turns out to be a text from Magnus; that simple fact shouldn’t have Alec’s heart speeding up a little in his chest, but he’ll just blame it on the ‘flu that he’s denying having.

**[From: Magnus] [17:18]**

_For warlock-customer confidentiality reasons, I can’t provide details, but let me tell you I have had quite enough of people assuming I can make all manner of offensively odd sex potions at the drop of a hat._

Alec snorts, then regrets it almost instantly, wincing at the continued rawness in his throat. His head, he realises, is pounding.

**[To: Magnus] [17:18]**

_Can you?_

**[From: Magnus] [17:19]**

_Of course I can, but that’s not to say it’s either ethical or recommended. A bit like watching all of Married At First Sight Australia over the course of one debauched weekend, with nothing but several bottles of Merlot for company._

**[To: Magnus] [17:19]**

_What._

**[From: Magnus] [17:20]**

_Never mind, darling - you’re better off not knowing. Anyway, I was actually texting to see if you wanted to do something tonight? It would have to involve food, as I appear to have forgotten to eat properly for most of the day, and man cannot survive on martinis alone. And I’d know! That was an interesting week._

Alec wants to laugh but he’s learned his lesson, settling for a little huff of breath that doesn’t disturb his throat too badly. Then he remembers that he is, for all his protestations, most _definitely_ sick, and therefore can’t have dinner with Magnus; he doesn’t feel like laughing anymore.

He should probably just bite the bullet.

**[To: Magnus] [17:22]**

_Can’t, sorry. Clary thinks I have some mundane ‘flu so I’m kind of just lying around. Doesn’t feel great, but I’ll be fine in a couple of days apparently._

Of all the things Alec’s expecting in response to his text, he hadn’t even thought to consider ‘Magnus opening a portal directly into his bedroom’ as one of the possibilities. And yet, mere seconds after receiving confirmation that his message has been successfully sent off into the ether, that’s exactly what happens.

“Um,” he says thickly, staring at Magnus as he steps out of the shimmering rift and closes it behind him with a flourish.

“You didn’t think to tell me you were unwell, Alexander?” he says breezily, eyebrow raised as he sweeps across the room towards Alec’s nest of shame. He looks just as beautiful and glamorous as he always does, and Alec feels even more drab and unimportant by comparison than usual, which is saying something; even at his best, Alec is a kid with a sparkler next to Magnus’s New Year’s firework display.

“You’re the High Warlock of Brooklyn - you have more important things to do than taking away my headache,” Alec protests as Magnus reaches out, but even proximity to the man is helping; he can already feel the ache in his bones receding.

“No, Alec,” Magnus says, soft but firm as he places a pleasantly cool hand against Alec’s cheek, “I assure you I don’t.” Alec swallows, and this time it doesn’t hurt.

In fact, he feels _fine_. He frowns at Magnus, suddenly feeling nothing but incredibly tired; it’s as though his body has just achieved something miraculous after a great deal of effort rather than, presumably, just getting some really good healing magic pushed through it by Magnus.

“You didn’t need to _heal_ me,” he protests, his eyes already slipping closed as he starts to sink into what he suspects will be a _very_ deep sleep. He’s so tired.

“Alec, I-” Magnus sounds confused, and perhaps a little concerned, but Alec can’t hear him anymore, because he is _gone_. 

➼

When Alec wakes up this time, he feels… incredible. He can’t actually remember the last time he opened his eyes feeling this well-rested before; has he _ever_ felt this well-rested? He sits up and his body responds like he wasn’t struggling to just turn over in bed yesterday, and he’s so amazed with his recovery that he almost doesn’t notice that Magnus is still in the room with him.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he says mildly, and Alec couldn’t say _how_ he knows, but he’s instantly aware that Magnus is very much not okay. He throws back the blankets and gets to his feet, stretching out his body and feeling something in his back give a satisfying click.

“Morning,” he says carefully, linking his hands behind his back and rolling his shoulders a little. “Did I miss something? You seem upset.” Magnus looks at him and there’s… well, there’s a lot to unpack in that expression. Alec’s not sure where to start.

“You didn’t miss anything,” Magnus says slowly. God, Alec’s never seen him this careful - not around _him_. “It is possible, however,” he continues, “that I myself managed to miss something rather important.” When he doesn’t elaborate, Alec takes a step closer to him, eyebrows furrowed.

“Okay,” Alec says, giving up on slow and reaching Magnus in a couple of strides. He reaches out and places a careful hand on Magnus’s bicep and-

_Oh._

If Alec had felt good before, this is something entirely new; vibrant, electric, and a little wild. It’s like he’s getting just a little taste of how it might feel to be made of lightning. He vaguely feels Magnus leaning into the press of his hand, a cross between a whine and a hiss passing his lips.

“I am not _this_ touch-starved,” he breathes, feeling a little drunk and stupid with the sensation. Magnus laughs somewhat bitterly but doesn’t move away from Alec’s touch, which is… good. It’s good.

“And you didn’t have the ‘flu,” he says, somehow sounding both annoyed and filled with a desperate yearning. No - that’s not how he _sounds_ , Alec realises; it’s how he feels. It’s like his emotions are bleeding over, saturating the air around him and sinking into Alec’s skin. “It appears that my magic has made a completely wild and potentially dangerous attempt to intertwine with yours. What you were suffering with yesterday was withdrawal from an unstable and - as yet - incomplete magical bond. If I hadn’t portalled over here, you’d have gotten better in a couple of days and we’d probably never even have noticed.”

Alec takes a moment to take that in. He expects to feel panic, or possibly _fear;_ surely the idea of being bound to someone forever should be mind-numbingly terrifying? He and Magnus have only been together for a couple of months, and Alec still stammers when referring to them as ‘boyfriends’; it seems like going from zero to sixty in the blink of an eye.

He really shouldn’t be okay with this.

“Huh,” he says, because he’s not sure what else _to_ say. Magnus squints at him.

“Would you like to add anything further?” he asks, and it’s so weird being able to _feel_ Magnus falling back on sarcasm to evade his own nerves, but Alec knows that’s exactly what’s happening here. He really wants it to stop.

“I can probably think of something,” he says with a shrug, then he ducks down to press a kiss to the surprised curve of Magnus’s mouth. He means it to be quick - a statement, a second of calm in the sea of roiling emotions he can feel playing across Magnus’s skin - but it’s like setting a match to tinder and he’s consumed with it in the space of a breath. Magnus gasps against him, mouth opening beneath Alec’s, and Alec would usually be worrying about morning breath, where to put his hands, how the hell to do this when he’s had _so little practice--_

But he doesn’t. He can’t. It’s so easy, Magnus’s hands clutching at his neck, dragging him deeper into a kiss that threatens to take him apart in seconds. He pushes Magnus backwards, presses him onto the desk, running his hands up firm thighs and drinking in every hitching breath and quiet moan that he - _Alec_ \- is pulling out of this man. He feels hot everywhere, skin feeling a little too tight, body prickling with static from the base of his skull to the backs of his knees. He always feels a little wild when Magnus kisses him, but this is like being held down in the middle of a hurricane; the only things keeping him here are the slick drag of Magnus’s mouth against his, and the feeling that if he pulls back from this too soon, something in him might snap.

Magnus’s hand on his chest, not pushing but holding him in place, has him coming back to himself by increments, pulling away of his own accord after _fuck_ only knows how long. Magnus’s fingers tighten in Alec’s t-shirt, but he doesn’t move to drag him back in, which is probably a good thing; Alec’s not sure he could stop a second time.

“Right,” Magnus says, unsteady and a little hoarse. “That’s kind of what I was talking about.”

“How do we complete it?” Alec asks suddenly, the thought barrelling into him out of nowhere; it throws him off just as much as Magnus, who takes a few moments to blink at him a little dazedly before replying.

“I imagine you can probably work that part out for yourself, Alexander.” The sharp throb of heat that lances through Alec when he catches on is almost debilitating, and he finds himself gripping a little harder where his hands are still resting on Magnus’s thighs.

“Oh,” he says.

“‘Oh’ indeed,” Magnus says drily.

“Can we-” Alec cuts himself off and swallows; he wishes he couldn’t feel Magnus’s eyes tracing the movement of his throat, but he _can_. “Can we do _that_ without completing the bond?” He’s kind of worried that Magnus might realise he’s terrible at this, and for his sake at least he’d rather they not be eternally bonded to each other before they’ve even had a chance to get to know each other. Sexually.

He can’t even think about that without heat licking up his spine, so he _stops_.

“I can probably find a solution, yes,” Magnus says slowly, and he’s just so… Alec doesn’t even _know_ what he is - intelligent, magical, _beautiful_ \- that he ends up leaning back in to kiss Magnus again, as slowly and carefully as he can. It’s hard not to just sink back into it, especially with the little noises Magnus makes against him, thighs flexing almost unconsciously beneath Alec’s hands. He manages it by reminding himself that his door is probably unlocked, and also that he might - if he’s _really lucky_ \- get to do this horizontally with Magnus pretty soon.

He can absolutely be patient for that.

“You are _remarkably_ calm about all of this, darling,” Magnus says when Alec forces himself to stop, pulling far enough away that his knuckles are just resting above Magnus’s knees, hands curled up into loose fists. Alec thinks about that for a moment; does he feel calm? He kind of does, honestly. First of all, this isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to him, though it’s potentially the most politically fraught, which is pretty insane in and of itself. Secondly… Well. It’s Magnus.

“I chose you already,” Alec says with a shrug. He kind of thought he’d been pretty obvious about this; he’s probably 24-hours away from falling completely in love with Magnus by this point, regardless of how weird it is to even _think_ that after such a short time together. He’s a brush of fingers and a soft smile’s distance from being completely lost. 

Magnus looks at him with a heat that Alec feels echoed in his stomach, and realises he may have _slightly_ underplayed his own ability to hide his emotions.

“You know,” Magnus says, hooking his legs around Alec’s and dragging him back in, “I still haven’t eaten much since yesterday. Would you like to go to brunch with me, Alexander?” Alec smiles at him, finding it impossible not to when he can feel Magnus’s satisfaction and surprised pleasure radiating from every inch of his body.

“Brunch would be great,” he says honestly. Actually, he’s just realised he’s fucking _starving_. “Just let me - let me shower? And change?” Magnus’s eyes travelling up his body feel a little too much like a physical caress for Alec to resist the shudder that goes through him.

“Of course,” he says smoothly. “I’ll wait.” Then Magnus pulls Alec back in for another kiss that has him grabbing onto the edge of the desk for support, knees going a little weak. “Think of me?” Magnus murmurs when he pulls back, pushing Alec towards the bathroom. 

When Alec realises what Magnus means, he stumbles and almost walks into the doorframe, Magnus’s pleased laughter following him and his embarrassment out of the bedroom; he shuts the door sharply behind him and leans against it for a moment with his eyes closed. This is insane. He should be feeling something other than elation and desire, but the panic just doesn’t seem to be coming to him as easily as it normally would.

Probably because, he thinks to himself, he’s already in love with Magnus. It feels less like a revelation and more like something he’s known for a while; a simple extension of his being, like his runes, his bow and arrow. Magnus is just _there_ now, a warm weight inside his chest, at home and immovable behind his ribs.

He’s going to shower, then he’s going to go to brunch with his boyfriend. They’ll talk about how they do this, about what this is going to _be_. Alec’s probably going to have to tell Magnus he loves him; he feels like it’s going to be hard to hide it now he’s realised what the swell of affection and longing in his heart actually _means_. It doesn’t matter if Magnus says it back.

Alec really hopes he says it back.

**Author's Note:**

> This is where I decided to go with the timeless 'caring for each other while sick' trope and I'm just... so confused. What? Where did this come from?? Although, please give me a round of applause for not doing the necessary acrobatics to bump this up to an 'E' rating. It would have been so easy. I'm racking up so many lewd codas in my head while writing these fics, you have NO idea.


End file.
